


How to S.A.M. (Steal a Million)

by crucibulis



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Heist, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Romantic Comedy, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/crucibulis
Summary: Nikola must enlist the help of someone on the other side of the law in order to protect the future of his family’s most precious heirloom.(In which I shamelessly steal the general plot and a bunch of lines from one of my favorite films because it's perfect for this pairing oh my GOD)





	1. Chapter 1

While technically there isn’t any medical basis for Nikola’s self-diagnosed claim that he is, quote, “allergic to awkward situations,” enough circumstantial evidence exists to get him out of the absolute cringe-fest that is open mic night. If SAM’s analysis of his respiration and heart rate at the last event were not enough, there would be the impromptu booth-turned-therapist's-couch session he’d had with an adorably tipsy Dr. Lexi T’Perro. So adorable that he didn’t even mind all of her ‘how do you feel about thats’ and ‘why do you think that is-es.’

Newton -- his sister -- does not buy it, regardless, and there is the fact that she recently woke up from a coma, which makes for a compelling reason why he should spend time with her. But really, Nik insists, he has his own well being to think about. He is _allergic._ Does she want him to _die? Again?_

Thus on this particular night, Nik finds himself on the _Tempest_ alone. It’s eerily quiet on board without the engines and most of the systems running, so he just puts on some headphones to keep his ears from doing that annoying ringing thing, and busies himself with clearing out his emails, adding tasks to his to-do list or sending replies where he deems necessary.

All in all, a perfectly boring evening -- a perfectly grown up evening, since doing work after dark, in bed, in his pajamas seems like some weird habit his _father_ would have -- until SAM decides to do… that thing that SAM always does.

Correlation doesn’t necessarily equal causation, and so it may have something to do with the fact that he and SAM were thrust together and onto the greatest adventure man and man-made AI’s have ever embarked upon... but either way, with SAM around, things are never boring for long.

[Pathfinder, there is an unfamiliar person on the ship who is acting suspiciously.]

Nik sits straight up in an instant. “What, where? What are they doing?”

[They are attempting to access the databases in the research room,] SAM answers.

“One of the technicians, maybe?” No harm in ruling out benign explanations, even if his experiences in Andromeda tend towards those that are _very not benign._

[There are no outstanding maintenance tickets open on the _Tempest._ They were all closed as of this afternoon.]

“Shit,” Nik hisses, jumping up to rummage through his bedside table for a small sidearm. “Shit, okay. Okay. Tell me about the intruder, what do they look like?” he asks, buying a moment to shift his mind into the clear focus he’ll need for a possible combat situation.

[They are human. The ship is dark for energy conservation, Pathfinder. I will not be able to give you a more accurate description without turning on lights and alerting them that they have been discovered.]

“Okay, scratch that then, I’m going up,” he rasps, shoving his feet into the closest pair of shoes. There’s no time to change out of his pajamas, but he figures if he ends up killing the intruder, there won’t be any witnesses anyway. “Can you open this door as quietly as possible?”

[Yes.]

The door opens inch by inch, and Nik slides through it sideways before heading for the ladder. Balancing the need for silence with the need to hurry, he climbs up with one hand, pointing his pistol upward so it’ll be ready if the intruder gets the jump on him.

Up top, he kneels into a crouch, making himself a smaller target while he lets his eyes adjust to the dim red light up ahead. Across the catwalk, there’s a lone figure, typing away at the terminal in the center of the room -- a man, probably about as tall as Nik, or maybe it’s just the way he stands like he has absolutely every right to be there. Which he _doesn’t_. He has his back to Nik, an advantage that he could lose at any second, so he stands and stealthily makes his way across, pistol at the ready.

With just a few steps between him and the intruder, he cocks the gun, and the sound has the satisfying effect of making the stranger freeze, startled. Nik can practically imagine the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “Don’t move,” Nik says, quiet and dangerous because really, he would love for this guy to give him an excuse. “Hands where I can see them.”

The man complies, slowly raising two gloved hands, and Nik hadn’t known it was possible to make such a motion convey _smugness_ but the intruder somehow manages it. Like he’d _wanted_ to get caught.

“SAM, lights. Turn around,” he orders the man as the room comes awake around them. “Slowly. What the hell are you doing on my ship?”

Facing him, the man shrugs, unconcerned with the fact that Nik is aiming a gun between his eyes. “Stealing, obviously.”

“Okay, but _what_ are you stealing?”

SAM answers for him on their private channel. [He was attempting to access armor and weapons schematics.]

“Schematics?” Nik repeats.

The intruder looks surprised for a moment, before his expression slides back to that of someone trying to charm their way out of a bind. Considering his good looks, Nik supposes it might work on some people. “Life is difficult on the frontier,” the man offers with another shrug. He has an accent that reminds Nik of some of his mother’s relatives on Earth. “An upgrade in equipment can be the difference between life and death.”

Nik falters for a moment, lowering his gun only a fraction to look at the man better. Initiative civvies that look sun-bleached and wind-beaten, like they were laundered by hand. Slightly sunken cheeks, and a paleness to his copper skin that says he’s missed a few too many meals. But here he is, stealing data from the Initiative’s flagship instead of food? Nik doesn’t need SAM to help him figure this one out. “You’re an exile?”

The man tilts his head, as if weighing whether he should tell the truth. “Yes…?”

He lowers the gun another fraction. Nik’s never met an exile before, doesn’t know anyone who has. He kind of thought they were all… well, maybe they are. It’d be a shame to shoot the last one standing. “Are -- are there many of you left alive?”

Gold eyes shift to the side, calculating. “Yes, quite a few.” For a guy who admitted outright to stealing, this guy sure chooses his words carefully. “But there are less every day.”

They stand there staring at each other for a long moment, before Nik lowers his gun all the way and puts the safety back on. He’s not gonna shoot this guy and they both know it by now. He pulls up his scanner on his omni-tool and passes it over the stranger from head to toe. “Turn around so I can scan you,” he says, and the stranger slowly faces the console. “Reyes Vidal,” Nik reads off. “Human male, age: twenty-eight.”

Things he doesn’t mention: the remnants of unidentifiable soil on his boots, and several identifiable species of DNA, all invisible to the naked eye but still telling quite a tale. And a gun, concealed by the back of Vidal’s untucked shirt. Unmodded, standard Initiative issue M3. According to SAM’s analysis, the weapon has been heavily used and is in bad shape. It’s possible the thing wouldn’t even fire.

“Status: missing in action. Found you,” Nik teases, as he comes up to stand next to him at the table.

“Heh,” Vidal replies, still trying to be disarmingly charming, and it’s working a little, because Nik sets his pistol down on the table, finger still resting on the trigger-guard. “So you have.”

“You have a lot of blood on your boots.” To Nik’s amusement, Vidal _almost_ looks down at them before he thinks better of it, instead opting to look up at him with slightly wider eyes. “And by a lot of blood, I mean a lot of different types of blood.”

A thoughtful blink of Vidal’s eyes is the only indication that this is news to him. “That scanner of yours is quite fancy.”

“That it is.”

“Does it also tell you who it was that spilled that blood?” Vidal counters.

He hates to admit that it doesn’t. “What are you, a lawyer?”

“Or that if it _had_ been me, that it might have been in self defense?”

 _“Might_ have been, huh?” Nik replies, in the vocal equivalent of rolling his eyes. “So that’s why you want my schematics, for ‘self defense purposes?’” he asks accusingly, making quotation marks with his free fingers.

“And other people’s defense,” Vidal insists, suddenly very earnest. “Listen, it’s every man for himself out there right now. You and I both know we don’t have the numbers for that.”

Nik bristles a little at being told what he may or may not know. “And so your solution is what, exactly?”

“If I can help people feel safer when they _cooperate_ , then maybe they’ll be less likely to shoot at me. And then I’ll be less likely to shoot at them.”

Another tense moment goes by while Nikola considers this, and lets the guy sweat. Hands still in the air, shifting his weight on his feet in a way that seems purely out of stiffness, Vidal doesn’t appear too nervous, which is kind of irritating. But from what the scans revealed, he would be no stranger to tense situations.

Probably not allergic.

“You know, it’s your lucky day,” Nik says at last. “I happen to be of the opinion that knowledge should be free. I can’t rightly get you in trouble for wanting to benefit from our research.”

Vidal slowly raises an eyebrow, reappraising. “An info-socialist. Fascinating.”

Nik shrugs off the compliment, and gestures at the terminal. “Go ahead and link back up. Go on,” he says when Vidal hesitates, as if anticipating a trap. He watches as the man brings up his omni-tool and quickly keys in his credentials. “SAM?”

“Connected,” SAM answers so both men can hear.

“Transfer him everything that doesn’t have a logo,” he commands, and now both Vidal’s brows raise in surprise. Before either of them can get sentimental about his act of generosity, or think too critically about it, he cuts through the moment with a snide remark. “Like I’m gonna let you run around in N7 gear.”

Something in Vidal’s expression softens. “Ah, yes,” he says quietly. “I... heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

“Well aren’t you just endearingly well informed?” Nik flatly retorts, and Vidal looks away for a moment before SAM interrupts.

“Transfer complete, Pathfinder.”

“Now get off my ship,” Nik tells him, a venomless and almost playful dismissal. He finds that he’s fighting a smile, and Nik really needs to rein that shit in. “Actually -- I’m seeing you off the Nexus myself.”

“An escort. How kind of you.”

“Don’t be cute,” Nik spits back, half scolding and half flirting because he can’t stop himself, apparently. He gestures towards the cargo bay. “This way.”

Vidal doesn’t move, just looks him over doubtfully. “Are you really going to walk me to my ship in your pajamas?”

“Shit,” he answers, making the other man chuckle. “Alright, this way, then.” Nik walks him back across the catwalk and down the ladder, following quickly, before Vidal gets any ideas. “Step into that latrine there. SAM, lock him in there until I’m done changing.”

“Done, Pathfinder.”

Back in his quarters, Nik sets his sidearm on the bed and changes into his own Initiative civvies in a hurry, sparing a moment to be thankful he no longer has to wrestle with a binder in moments like these. It makes him kind of winded just thinking about it, or maybe that’s just the stress of having a handsome thief locked in his bathroom. He pulls his raven hair down and back into a neater attempt at his usual ponytail, thankful he didn't go through that whole ordeal looking _too_ embarrassing.

Once again considering his weapon, and how likely his new friend is to betray him, and how it would look if he escorted someone through the station at gunpoint, he secures the pistol in his waistband on the small of his back.

When he walks out of his room, he hears water running, and he commands SAM to open the door just in time to see Vidal bent over the sink and wiping his chin. Nik feels a pang of sympathetic thirst -- god, where are these people even getting water? -- before the other man straightens up, looking over his captor as if to see where he’s stashed his gun.

“Don’t try anything with that piece of shit pistol on your back. I _am_ a faster draw than you,” Nik says.

Vidal smirks at him, a gleam in his eye. “You don’t know that.”

“And _you’ll_ never find out, because you’ll be dead before you know what hit you,” Nik warns him, more sure of SAM’s abilities than his own. “ _Don’t_ try anything,” he repeats, and points for Vidal to get out of the latrine.

“Alright, _alright_ …” Vidal laughs appeasingly, then pauses. “I don’t suppose you could spare a snack for the road?” he asks, gesturing with his head to the galley across the hall.

“What, do you have the whole layout of the ship memorized?”

Vidal snorts. “Don’t you?”

Nik just answers with an exaggerated sigh. “In,” he orders, not about to let the man out of his sight even to pilfer a few nutrient bars for him. But at this point not shooting him and then not feeding him feels like some form of cruelty. “Here,” he says, shoving them into Vidal’s hands and watching him stuff them into his pockets with a glib ‘thank you’ before ushering him back out into the corridor.

 

They walk out of the Tempest and down the dock in silence, with Nik following behind Vidal, not close enough to be weird but close enough to be a deterring presence against any shenanigans. Vidal stops at the entrance to the common area. “If you would be so kind,” he says to Nik with a saccharine smile. “I’d hate to leave more digital fingerprints than I already have.”

Nik just sighs at him and opens the door with his omni-tool. “After you.”

He can only hold in all of his questions as long as it takes them to get to the tram. And he has a lot of them for his first encounter with an exile, starting with getting someone else’s side of a familiar story.

“So, you were involved in the mutiny?”

To his surprise, Vidal splutters into laughter. “I had -- nothing to do with that shitshow.” He stops abruptly when he sees the look Nik is giving him. “What? I have no reason to lie.”

“So you did something else to get kicked out then,” Nik reasons. “No way you left the Nexus voluntarily.”

“It was either leave, or stay and wait for them to run out of food and competent leadership.”

Nik has to give him that one, though he’s not gonna say it out loud. Not out of any loyalty to said leadership, but just so Vidal doesn’t have the pleasure of being right. “And where are you staying now?”

“Kadara.”

Nik’s heart skips a beat. The planet from Spender’s handoff tape. “Where’s that?” he inquires, trying for casual.

“Going to come visit me, Ryder?” There’s that charming smile again. Vidal probably doesn’t want to answer. Damn.

He really does roll his eyes this time. “I would tell you not to hold your breath, but I don’t know if Kadara has air.”

“It does…” Vidal answers vaguely, eyes wandering around the tram car.

“I thought they didn’t find any habitable planets.”

“The _Initiative_ didn’t, anyway,” Vidal corrects him with a sideways look. “Though I’d hardly call Kadara ‘habitable.’ More like… ‘not uninhabitable.’”

“And you’re not going to tell me where this piece of paradise is? I’m hurt.” God, is he flirting? He’s _flirting_. With an exile thief. It’s for a good cause, though, right? Spender’s people. They did… things. He promised he would find them.

Vidal chuckles, apparently intent on flirting back, at least in his tone if not in his words. “Sorry, but I don’t want to be personally responsible for bringing the Nexus down on everyone’s heads. I probably wouldn’t keep my own much longer. You understand.”

“Okay, but seriously, what if I was coming to help?”

Vidal frowns, and he’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Seriously? ...They would probably do you the courtesy of spitting in your face, before putting your head on a pike next to mine.”

Nik flinches a bit at that mental image. Wow, these exiles really know how to hold a grudge. “We barely know each other, Vidal. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

Another laugh. Nik is deciding he likes the sound of it. He finds himself wondering if Vidal laughs often on Kadara, if any of them do.

“I guess we’ll both have to keep our heads, then,” Vidal decides.

“Yeah, I’m kind of sentimentally attached to mine.”

“Not to mention... _physically.”_

Nik also really likes the way he says ‘physically,’ like that, all deep and sonorous and suggestive… he likes a lot more about this guy than he really should. “That, too,” he echoes with a wistful smile, because now his head doesn’t feel as attached to the rest of him as much as usual, so he should probably shut up.

 

“Well, this is me.”

Reyes stops in front of a beat up Initiative shuttle, one that has plenty of scars from navigating the scourge and unfriendly skies. He stands there as if waiting for Nik to dismiss him.

“I’m watching you leave,” Nik tells him, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I don’t want to see you here again.”

“Not a problem; I got what I came for,” Vidal starts to board but stops short. ”Oh, just one more... _tiny_ favor.”

“Oh my god,” Nik mutters. He scrubs a hand over his face, bracing against a headache.

“I was… a bit distracted with you pointing a gun at my face, and I forgot to log out of your systems,” Vidal explains. He almost looks apologetic. Almost. “If you could just, exit out of my session when you get back to your ship?”

“Oh sure, no problem,” Nik replies, in a way that makes it clear that it most definitely is a problem. “Anything else? You wouldn't like me to bury a body for you, or smuggle some drugs in my rectum, or…?”

Vidal only answers that with a rich laugh and a shake of his head.

“You've got some nerve,” Nik tells him. “Next you’ll say you want to kiss me good night.”

Tilting his head, Vidal’s gold eyes look up for a moment, as if he’s actually thinking about it. “I don't usually, not on the first acquaintance…” he says taking several steps forward as Nik watches with widening eyes. “But you've been such a good sport --”

Later, SAM will inform him that the kiss lasted for seventeen and three-fourths of a second. In the moment, it feels like much longer... long enough for Nik to struggle, just for a moment, before he melts into the touch of the other man’s lips. Long enough for both of them to shift, to slot their mouths together just a little better, and then a little more until they are a perfect fit. Long enough for Nik to feel a hand come up to support his neck, and a moan rumble against his ribs, and the most subtle touch of a tongue.

Then it’s over, and Nik stands there stunned as Reyes smiles at him with triumph in his eyes, as if a kiss was what he’d been there to steal all along. “Be good,” he says with a fond whisper, and then he gets in his ship and flies away.

Nik stands there and watches him go, not necessarily because he said he would, but because he’s still trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

 

* * *

 

 

Liam and Nik’s sister Newton are falling all over each other by the time they get back to the ship, stumbling into Nik’s quarters to tell him all about their night. He tries to keep up with the stories, he really does, but they’re laughing so hard that he doubts he could make sense of some of it even with the help of a translator with a fantastic sense of humor.

“You should’ve seen it!” Liam tells Nik, as Newt is leaning over him so she doesn’t fall off the couch cackling. “Your sister is the _worst_ wingman.”

 _“You said_ you weren’t there to look for anybody,” she complains and wipes her eyes.

“Still,” Liam pouts. “It’s kinda mean to be all ‘I’ll be your wingman’ and then go home with more numbers than I did.”

“Yeah, well.” She brushes a hand through her short fluorescent blue hair, entirely unapologetic and maybe a little taunting, if it’s possible to touch one’s own hair in such a way. “You’re gonna leave in a few days anyway, so. More girls for me.”

“Has Harry even cleared you for that kind of… ‘activity’ yet?” Liam teases her.

“Ugh,” Nik interjects.

Newt waggles her eyebrows, her smile showing too much teeth. “What Harry doesn’t know… won’t hurt him.”

“UGH?!” Nik says again, louder and with his hands thrown up for emphasis, because he really doesn’t want to think about the more feminine version of him having sex right now.

“Sorry. Okayyy subject change!” Newt announces, mercifully. “What did you get up to while we were gone?”

Nik sighs, taking on an air of boredom. “Oh, you know… read a book, took a shower, checked some emails, caught someone breaking onto the ship, you know, the usual.”

“Wait… what?” Liam squeaks.

“I caught someone breaking onto the ship.”

Newt shakes her head like the concept has given her a seizure of some sort. “What, just now?!”

“Yes!”

“Good lord!” she exclaims, then reaches for the after-party beverage she’d helped herself to from his private stash. “Here, take a sip of this and tell us what happened.”

He manages to wrestle the tumbler away from her before she succeeds in spilling it on his pants. “Well, it was pitch dark and there he was,” he begins. “Tall. Gold eyes, like a lion or some shit. Fit, quite good-looking…” He shakes off the memory; from the worried look on his sister’s face he needs to quickly correct course. “But in like an evil, dastardly kind of way, though. Arrogant, smug, no sense of guilt or shame, or... anything.”

Liam snickers. “Discussed all that, did you?”

“Well, that was later, when I was walking him to his shuttle.”

There’s a stretch of silence where all three of them try to process, and all seem to come up short. “Okay,” Newt says, squeezing one eye shut as if that will help her be sober enough for this. “Maybe start from the beginning.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a chapter to show the differences in their canon interactions, and then the next chapter will be all new stuff :D

“So you came to visit me after all.”

Well, it’s not like Reyes has been on Nik’s mind since they first set course for Kadara. Not like he’s been wondering about him, and gotten caught spacing out so many times that his crew is starting to worry. It’s not like he’s been subtly looking for him ever since they touched down in the port, scanning crowds in the market, and every table and booth in Kralla’s Song.

Still, he doesn’t expect him to actually _appear out of thin air,_ as if _summoned by his thoughts_ , and Nik nearly jumps out of his skin. If he were a cartoon cat, they’d be peeling him off the ceiling right now, one fixated claw at a time.

Instead he just pivots to face him, even as his gut is trying to go another direction and his heart another and his nervous system a third. With some effort he watches as his thief acquaintance signals to the asari behind the bar with two taps of his fingers, because apparently being in Nik’s presence doesn’t have any effect on his motor skills. Nik can’t exactly say the same.

And apparently, standing around like he has every right to be someplace is Reyes’s default state of being, because he leans against the bar on his hip, smirking at Nik in his visually inconspicuous, yet technologically impressive armor.

“Nice gear,” Nik manages, too shaken to hide the irony in his voice or the way his eyes want to rake up and down Reyes’s body, and the amazing way he fills out those stolen schematics made physical form.

Reyes gives him a knowing smile. “Thanks…” he says, and passes Nik a tumbler of whiskey. “It’s the best money can’t afford.”

Nik snorts a laugh as he clinks glasses with him. They don’t seem to be toasting to anything in particular, so he just silently raises a glass to calmer nerves, and throws back a considerable amount before he vaguely remembers he’s here on Initiative business of some kind. Right. Shouldn’t be too intoxicated for that, and somehow, Reyes’s presence seems like the bigger threat on that front. “As much as I’d love to catch up,” he says, attempting to sound half-sarcastic. “I’m actually meeting someone.”

The other man nods as he swallows down his whiskey. “Shena,” he says, and suddenly Reyes’s tendency to be well informed goes from being irritating to alarming. “That’s me.”

Nik squints at him, his midnight blue eyes darkening with suspicion. “You’re not angaran.”

Reyes just laughs and leans more comfortably against the bar top on one arm. “Well spotted. I’m not, but the Resistance pays me to supply information. Among other things.”

When Nik leans in as well, it’s less out of a sense of comfort and more out of a sense of what-the-fuck. _“You’ve been selling my schematics to Aya?”_ he hisses, the incredulity in his voice and the deep crease in his brow concentrated so it’s only for Reyes to contend with, but the thief just puts a hand over his heart, as if his _honor_ is at stake.

“Of course not!” he insists. “Out of respect for your ideals -- and in order to demonstrate some good will -- I provided them with no strings attached.”

Crossing his arms, Nik gives him a _look,_ brow raised, his piercing eyes warning off any nonsense. But Reyes doesn’t break under the pressure of his gaze, just shrugs in that way of his, completely innocent. If only because he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to feel guilt.

“Wow, a smuggler _and_ a diplomat,” Nik remarks, and Reyes scrunches his lips together, as if accepting that these dual roles are just his burden to humbly bear. He gestures for Nik to accompany him to the window, a more secluded spot where the sounds of the wind and passing ships will keep them from being overheard. “Even so, I’m surprised Evfra would trust you.”

“Well, I don’t know about _that_ ,” Reyes grins. “But he’s at least willing to work with me. Your man, Vehn Terev, was arrested by Sloane Kelly, leader of the Outcasts. Word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa. The people are calling for his execution. And Sloane… she’s a woman of the people.”

There’s an edge of bitterness in Reyes’s voice, as if to say she is exactly the opposite of that, and Nik wonders if he would have picked up on it if they hadn’t met once before. Either way, he’s already seen what Sloane’s thugs are capable of for himself, and he’s starting to understand how someone who lives in Kadara Port could end up with so much incidental blood on their boots. “The Resistance would probably want him to be extradited to Aya for judgement.”

“Exactly,” Reyes affirms with a sideways glance. “But Sloane isn’t concerned with what the Resistance wants. She won’t give Vehn up easily.”

Nik takes in the panorama of the port much more readily than his next sulphur-infused breath. Sloane’s domain is beautiful in its own way: all of the soft colors but none of the softness of a bearded iris, a dying dream shrouded in perpetual morning mist.

He finds he’s grateful to be facing all of this with, well, with a familiar face. “So…” Nik says in a conspiratorial voice, shifting on his feet so he brushes shoulders with the man beside him. Unintentionally, of course. “You gonna help me bust him out?”

Reyes’s laugh is darker this time, his smirk brighter, sharper. “I thought you’d never ask. No, really,” he stresses when Nik silently demures. “I did _not_ expect that from you. Like at all.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Nik grumbles, rolling his eyes. It’s safer to look at the scenery, anyway. The jagged mountains beyond won’t be treacherous enough to comment on the heat in his cheeks, and he’d rather jump off of one of them than admit what it does to him when Reyes is impressed.

“Why, Ryder. I had no idea I’d had such an _effect_ on you when last we met.”

Nik whips his head around. “You didn’t! I mean -- you --”

Reyes snickers at his spluttering attempts to reconcile his contradictions. The sound of his laughter isn’t nearly as pleasant when it’s at his expense, so Nik makes a mental note to never speak in Reyes’s presence ever again. “Hopefully you can get _yourself_ out of that one,” Reyes teases. “So we can go help our angaran friend.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

Reyes jerks his head up to face the person who’s caught him red-handed, his heart leaping in alarm and then leaping again at the sight of his date. “R-Ryder!”

It has taken a moment to recognize him; Nik looks so different tonight out of his Initiative standard clothes. The long tails of his black jacket billow agitatedly as he strides further into the storage room, boots falling heavy with disapproval.

Or perhaps Reyes is just projecting. Ryder has a way of being an imposing presence, commanding a room without really meaning to. That’s why this mini-heist of his was going to work.

Might still work, if he can get Ryder on board.

Damn, he really needs to stop needing the Pathfinder to like him.

“Yep, stealing while everyone is else is partying,” Nik assesses, hands coming up to his hips. His voice is flat, analytical, devoid of judgement. “Definitely your M.O.”

“Twice is not a pattern,” Reyes scoffs, more relieved than he should be that Nik doesn’t seem angry, just inconvenienced. That he can fix. “Not gonna point a gun at me this time?”

“I might... if I had one.” In truth, Nik seems too bored to be an anthropogenic hazard to anyone at the moment. But maybe it’s just how effortlessly gorgeous he looks, that makes even his emotions seem unobtainable, his boldly lined eyes giving nothing away in the most intense way possible. “If only for leaving me alone with a room full of people who don’t like me. What could possibly be worth blowing off our date?”

“Something… _for_ our date?” Reyes tries, drawing attention to the bottle of Mount Milgrom in his hands with a few wriggles of his wrist.

Nik presses his lips together, nodding tightly, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, the antithesis of surprised. “Stolen merchandise. Wow. Consider me romanced.” His voice is almost caustic with sarcasm. Then he seems to soften, snorting a laugh and saying almost to himself: “Robbing Sloane to pay me back for all those drinks? You’re such a _scoundrel.”_

Reyes flashes him a smirk, because Nik is _right,_ and that means he hasn’t fucked this up. At least not completely, not yet. “Thank you,” he says with a slight bow, as if it had been meant as a compliment.

But then his flirtation is cut short by a sound out in the corridor, echoing off the heavy steel. “Shit -- someone’s coming!” he hisses. “We need a distraction.”

Nik rolls his eyes sharply. “Oh for fuck’s sake…” he mutters, and the tails of his jacket flutter as he closes the space between them, and grabs Reyes by the front of his shirt.

The kiss is _good,_ somehow better than when they kissed on the Nexus or perhaps that’s just because that memory is too faded by time passed. Nik’s lips against his now are surprisingly earnest, and so heated with the lingering taste of whatever Nik was drinking from the bar that Reyes can’t help but groan into it.

Well, at least they’re going to get points for authenticity with whatever poor soul has just walked in to judge them.

Nik yanks him closer as a throat clears at the door, and he clamps onto Reyes’s lips with insistent teeth, as if to forbid him from even thinking about pulling away.

Reyes has no desire to go anywhere, especially since if this ruse doesn’t work, the next place he’s going is, well, his head would be going one place and the rest of him another. Maybe he and Ryder will adorn adjacent spikes on the entrance to port after all.  

He banishes that thought by gathering Nik closer, a gloved hand sliding to the base of his skull, careful not to disturb where his long, black hair is pulled up into a half-bun. He curls his tongue into Nik’s mouth, the focus of his whole being on the beautiful body responding to him, pressing against him. He kisses with all of himself except for his heavy-lidded eyes, which are cut to the side and watching with a protective glare as the intruder retreats.

He’s on such a rush of adrenaline and arousal when they finally break apart that he has to temper the dopey grin that’s threatening to appear on his face. “You know, I think I’m seeing a pattern, too,” he teases, and feels Nik’s huffed breath against his cheek.

Nik shoves him playfully, but once he recovers there’s no more space between them than there was a moment ago. “Twice isn’t a pattern, remember?”

“Oh... Right...” Reyes agrees with a murmur, then leans back in for a third, only to pull away at the last second when he sees Nik close his eyes and lean in, too. He’ll leave him hanging for now. The next time they kiss, he thinks, as he laughs at the startled look of being caught out on Nik’s face, he wants both of them to be certain it’s real.

 

* * *

  


The problem with spending time with a genius who had two parents that were also geniuses, and also has an even bigger genius embedded inside of their genius brain that was invented and put in there by aforementioned genius parents, like some kind of turducken of geniuses, is that sometimes they say things that are deeply profound and they don’t even realize it. They take the way their mind works for granted, and so things just… come out of their mouth and they don’t even really stop to consider all the implications. Their mind is working so fast they don’t even realize there _are_ any implications. They’re just shooting in the dark and see no reason to try and connect any bullet-hole dots.

Case in point: “So is this like your Pride Rock?”

Reyes has to fight not to snort whiskey out of his nose. “My what?”

“You know, Pride Rock, like the Lion King.”

Reyes stares at Nik, trying to figure out if this is just some play on his name or if there’s some more elusive punchline.

Does Ryder _know?_

He hesitates for so long, that Nik feels the need to demonstrate, reaching for the whiskey. “Here,” he says, and then lifts the bottle up into the sunlight like a lion cub being coronated as prince. “The Ciiiiiiircle of Liiiiiiife!” he sings drunkenly, and so loudly that Reyes feel the need to shush him more urgently than the need to get the bottle out of harm’s way.

“Jesus, Ryder,” he scolds, laughing all the same. “Except the whiskey is _not_ my baby.”

“You were sure holding it like it was earlier.”

“It’s valuable!” he pouts. “Either way,” he chuckles, so Ryder knows he’s not actually upset. “I would appreciate you not _dangling_ it over the edge like that.”

“Right,” Nik looks over the ledge and then seems to instantly regret it, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans into Reyes to balance himself. “Dangling is bad.”

Then Nik launches into some other rabbit hole about some other subject, gravity and wells and gravity wells or something of that nature, but Reyes’s mind is still stuck on the previous topic, parsing it out, which is interesting, because Nik didn’t seem to bother. A leader’s mysterious death, a coup, exile, a tyrannical ruler, more exile, another possible coup… it all fits.

“Wait, so…” he interrupts, too drunk for conversational politeness but Nik doesn’t really seem to mind. “Who is _Scar_ … in this analogy?” he asks carefully, just to see if Nik is actually on the same page.

“I didn’t realize it _was_ an --”

Ah, but he’s getting there now, eyes wide as things click into place. Or, Reyes wonders if they had already done so in Nik’s subconscious. What a wonder he is… it’s like partaking of the last bottle of Mount Milgrom in the galaxy without even realizing you’re consuming liquid gold.

They stare at each other, each questioning with subtle shifts of their expression, a raised eyebrow, a tilt of a head, testing, wondering if the other is thinking the same thing. It’s as audacious as it is juvenile to draw a parallel: Reyes, as the long lost king, the Pathfinder blessing the future of his kingdom, and the future of his kingdom, something stolen from Sloane, but it _fits,_ and maybe Nik was just making a dumb joke about a dumb kids’ movie, or maybe he’s just way more intelligent drunk than most people are sober.

Finally, Nik breaks the standoff. “Are we -- are we telepathically planning a coup?” he asks, slurring a little with confusion. “‘Cause I think I’m either _too_ drunk for that shit, or not drunk enough.”

Or perhaps, paradoxically, all of the above, and so Reyes just laughs it off as the joke it was meant to be. “I think if we were, there would be more singing.”

Nik falls over onto him laughing, which is nice. He’s happy, and warm and solid against the thin material of Reyes’ shirt, and he takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around him, with the excuse that he might need to steady him lest he take a tumble over the edge.

Somehow, Reyes still feels like he’s falling.

Nik eventually quiets, dabbing at his eyes, but not moving from where he’s nestled under Reyes’s arm. They both stay silent for a few minutes, sipping whiskey and watching the sun set on Kadara Port.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Reyes finally speaks up. “I sometimes forget…”

“Forget what?”

“That we’re in a completely different galaxy.” It’s a difficult concept to wrap one’s head around sometimes, but then again life in exile can give one a pretty myopic view of things. When your face is being shoved into the dirt, it doesn’t really matter if it’s Earth dirt or intergalactic dirt. “It just... hits me every now and then.”

Nik makes a soft noise of agreement, snuggling a little closer against him, seeming worn out by his laughing fit. ”Yeah, doesn’t feel like it sometimes, does it?”

Well, Ryder has a distinctly separate perspective. Here Reyes is stuck on the battlefield of dust returning to dust while Nik is soaring through the stars. Reyes wants a piece of that, to live vicariously if only for a moment, to know what it’s like to have bigger ambitions than just a single mound of bones on a single world.

“Is Andromeda everything you hoped it would be?”

In stark contrast to his earlier ramblings, Nik doesn’t say a word for a long time. Reyes had known it was a loaded question -- Andromeda hasn’t been _anything_ that _anyone_ thought it would be, that was kind of the point of coming. But for a Pathfinder, he was probably more prepared than most for the unknown, probably looked forward to diving in head first.

But he’s silent for so long that Reyes starts to worry. “Nikola?” he tries, and only realizes he’s never used the full version of the name before, when Nik startles, straightening up to look at him with those boldly lined eyes.

But he shies away from the look of concern on Reyes’s face, and turns back to the view before them. “Nothing has gone right since the second I got here,” he says, barely audible over the wind. “That’s why I helped you, you know? On the _Tempest_ . When I showed up and they told me about the exiles, I felt… sick. I assumed that sending all of those people away was a sanitized death sentence. And I wasn’t there, to stop… _any_ of it. And then you showed up; it was like seeing a ghost.”

He’d _felt_ like a ghost -- Reyes remembers being just a few more missed meals away from becoming one. It was what made going back to the Nexus so easy. He was probably going to die, so he might as well go down doing something impossible.  

He hadn’t counted on Ryder, who apparently still blames himself for the loss of lives, when with one act of generosity, he had saved so many that he doesn’t even know about. “The uprising on the Nexus… that was very much _not_ your fault.”

“I know -- I know that, but… do you know how many people have told me that they didn’t think the Pathfinders were real? That we were just some… _fairy tale_ the Initiative made up to placate people? If we had gotten here sooner… things might have been so different. Things were _supposed_ to be different here, I mean --” Nik halts, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all buzzkill on you.”

“It’s alright,” Reyes assures him. “I did ask, after all. I can’t fault you for giving an honest answer. I _don’t.”_

He could never fault anyone for honesty. On Kadara, even with the angaran presence and their open book policy on feelings, honesty sometimes feels more valuable than a breath of fresh air. Even when it hurts. _Especially_ when it hurts.

Nik passes him the bottle, and it’s not surprising that he changes the subject regardless. “Why did you come here, Reyes?”

A name for a name. An honest answer for an honest answer, Reyes thinks, as he takes a drink of whiskey for courage, and the truth is simple enough to not feel like he’s giving too much away. “To be someone.”

Nik turns. Looks at him like he sees right through him, not regarding him as the Charlatan, or a smuggler, or an exile, or a thief, just himself. And stripped down to only that, the slight wrinkle in Nik’s brow makes Reyes feel more exposed than he meant to, as if Ryder can see just how much Reyes _wants._ How he’s been fanboying over him since they met all those months ago, how much he’s been trying to rise to his level, to be his peer, as pretentious as that is. How desperate he is to be deserving of the second chance that Ryder gave him, to be worthy of sitting here with him on the top of a world… But Nik looks at him like he can see all of that and doesn’t mind. Reyes hates it, he loves it, can only stand to glance at it out of the corner of his eye, how Nik looks at him like there’s something there that makes him want to _keep_ _looking._

“You could be,” he says, with finality. Confident of Reyes’s potential, even if he hasn’t seen a fraction of his successes. “Although I’ll tell you…. ‘Being someone’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he warns with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“You would know,” Reyes concedes, and smiles at him with his eyes as he takes another sip of gold.

“Yeah,” Nik scoffs. “I would also know that you have what it takes.”

If they weren’t on a precarious ledge, Reyes might be tempted to pounce on him for saying that, might press him up against the nearest surface and press their mouths together hard enough to bruise. Instead, he just carefully hands Nik the bottle and then puts a hand on his cheek, gently guiding him forward until Nik understands what he wants.

It feels like the culmination of something, somehow, the equilibrium of a debt repaid, or the moment of stillness that follows the balancing of scales. Honest answers for honest answers, and an honest kiss for an honest kiss. A comfortable silence for a comfortable silence; a genuine smile for a genuine smile.

It isn’t until he goes for many months without hearing from Nik again, that he starts to think it was the end of something, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on tumblr at crucibulis.tumblr.com  
> come say hi if you want i guess?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a wild plot appears!

It’s a testament to her resilience that Newton is even remotely interested in joining the Pathfinder team after Meridian. If she wanted to, she could probably go ahead and retire, just find a plot of land somewhere and plant a garden and get a dog, and nobody would dare to argue. She’s done enough, and what she went through only seems like small potatoes compared to Nik’s own experience because he died. Again.

So heaven help the inhabitants of the Heleus cluster, both friend and foe, now that there are two Ryders at the helm of the _Tempest._ Prepare for trouble, make it double, and all that.

“So today’s lesson in Pathfinding,” Nik announces to her in the meeting room. “Dealing with Director Tann. He sent me an urgent message this morning asking me to call him first thing.”

Newt’s mouth curls into a knowing grin. “Not your favorite person, I’m guessing?”

“I don’t think Tann is _anyone’s_ favorite person,” Nik grumbles, and then goes ahead and connects the call before he can say anything else mean.

“Pathfinder,” Jarun Tann’s image greets him, in that over-enunciating way of his. Nik knows this is not a translator issue because Kallo does _not_ talk like that. “Good morning. And Specialist Ryder.”

“Hello,” Newt answers sleepily, the cup of coffee she sips from still mostly full.

Before anyone can get sidetracked with pleasantries, Nik gets straight to the point. “You asked me to call you?”

“Yes.” Tann puts his hands behind his back. Like some kind of subliminal messaging, Nik gets the funny feeling that the director is about to say something he’s not going to like. “Due to the… ‘Archon incident’ on the Hyperion,” he says carefully. “We have decided to implement a series of new security measures.”

Well that’s not so bad. Perhaps Tann is just acting weird because he’s speaking to the two people most affected by said incident. “Sounds like a good idea. What can we do to help?”

“We will be compartmentalizing systems so that SAM no longer has access to security, in the event it is ever… not under our control.”

“I see.” Okay, so no hacking into parts of the new Meridian complex where he’s not supposed to be. No big deal, he wasn’t really planning on doing that anyway.

“In addition, we will be creating backups of all of SAM’s data as a loss prevention measure.”

Nik very deliberately doesn’t react. Alarm bells are going off in his head now, though, because there’s a lot of data that he would very much rather they not have. “SAM already has redundant data drives, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but they are partially encrypted, and all contained within SAM node,” Tann unhelpfully reminds him. “This additional set of backups will be kept on the Nexus and will be updated periodically.”

Nik skips right over his questions about how Tann even _knows_ about the encrypted logs… or who all has been looking at SAM’s data. The thoughts still hit him like a bucket full of ice water dumped on his head. “And will they be unencrypted?”

“Eventually, yes, that is the intent…?” Tann says, narrowing his eyes as if trying to figure out why Ryder would object. “A contingency plan in case... the worst should happen.”

“Director, some of those logs are encrypted for a reason. They contain private information.”

“Which is why only top Nexus leadership will have access to them. As a con-tin-gen-cy.”

Nik scoffs, because that statement is supposed to gain his confidence and it’s doing, like, the exact opposite. “Yeah I’m still not comfortable with that.”

Tann doesn’t sigh, but there’s a beat of silence that somehow translates as a sigh regardless. “Pathfinder Ryder, I am sure I don’t need to remind you, or your sister, that a hostile entity invaded the human ark and hijacked the artificial intelligence in question.”

Nik spares an apologetic glance at his sister. “No, we certainly don’t need to be reminded. But --”

“Then I’m sure you understand the necessity of preventing it from ever happening again,” Tann says sternly. “And if it _does_ happen again despite our best efforts, we will need to know everything that our enemy knows. What is that saying? Knowing is half the battle?”

The twins exchange looks again.  He’ll have to wait until the call is over to know what Newt is really thinking, but for now she just shrugs, as if to say, _what can you do?_

Good question. Nik turns back to the holo-image of the director. “I take it you’re not calling to ask for my permission.”

“Ah - no,” Tann replies in a clipped voice, because that should have been obvious; Tann never asks anyone for permission to do anything. “Due to the nature of your connection to SAM, you are required to be physically present in SAM node for the update and system reset. This will allow us the best chance of responding if there are …. complications.”

Like him dying again. Nik very purposefully does not agree to anything. “When’s the big day?”

“Three standard days from now. Please arrive at oh-nine-hundred sharp.”

“Understood, Director,” he says, and then abruptly cuts off the connection, again without actually saying whether he plans to show up or not.

Nik crosses his arms and throws his head back to look at the ceiling. It would be stupid to panic over something like this, so he’s not panicking, he’s _not_ \-- but unlike most of the problems he’s faced since arriving in Andromeda, he can’t exactly shoot his way out of this one. And it seems too much to hope that he would be able to ‘SAM’ his way out of it either.

“I mean, I sort of get why you’re not okay with this,” Newt says, interrupting his thoughts. “But… you haven’t gotten laid since we got to Andromeda, right?”

Nik doesn’t answer her, either, just pinches the bridge of his nose. “So it’s not like -- oh…” Newt draws out the syllable as she comes to some conclusion that probably doesn’t have anything to do with anything. “ _You haven’t gotten laid since we got to Andromeda_. That’s worse.”

“Okay, first of all?” he cuts her off. “Don’t ever talk to me again,” he demands, completely deadpan. She knows he’s just kidding, and makes a funny face at him like they’re still five. “Second of all, I can turn the logs off for _that_ \-- that’s not why this bothers me. Not really.”

“Then what?”

“Off the top of my head, three things,” he says, counting off on his fingers. “One is mom. No one else knows that she’s here.”

Newt makes another skeptical face, one that pulls at the small array of scars over her cheekbone. “Yeah, but if people found out... that wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“I’d rather not have another family member taken hostage if I can help it.”

Her expression darkens, and she takes a few steps closer, finally sensing that this is an actual big deal, and not just her brother being dramatic. “You have some other enemies I should know about?” she asks in a low voice.

“Well… I _might_ be investigating a murder,” he winces.

“Might.”

“Yeah. I don’t know who’s involved, so I can’t really trust anyone with the evidence I’ve collected so far. And… yeah. Who knows what they would do if they found out I suspected something?”

Newt leans over onto the vid console, as if this new development has nearly knocked her off her feet. “Well shit.”

It gets worse, though. “Also… the Reapers.”

Newt’s eyes turn upward in the way of someone trying to fight back tears, even though her eyes are dry. Maybe she’d put it out of her mind. Nik would certainly like to. “Fuck,” she mutters. “You haven’t told anyone else about that, either?”

“No,” Nik shakes his head. “And I _do_ think people deserve to know. I just… was hoping maybe we would hear something. That there were at least some survivors. It’s better than thinking that everyone back home is just… gone.”

“Yeah, people are definitely gonna freak either way. I mean I did.”

Nik knows, because he was there for that. For all the tears and the hugs and the lengthy emails when neither of them could sleep and had no one else to talk to about it. Unraveling all the implications of it was like slowly drifting into a black hole of grief - it only got more dark and densely painful the more they thought about it, about everyone and everything that might have been lost. “So did I.”

“It would definitely soften the blow if we could give people some good news, I agree.”

“Exactly.” Nik mirrors her posture, leaning against the console facing her. “So… between those three things, I don’t want SAM’s memories accessible to the Nexus. And as incompetent as _they_ are sometimes, who knows who _else_ would get their hands on them?”

“What can we really do though?” Newt shrugs. “It doesn’t look like they’re giving you much of a choice. And honestly, Nik…” she adds with an uncertain expression. “You died and I got taken hostage.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“Putting more stringent security in place is a good idea.”

“I don’t disagree, but they can keep us _and_ SAM _and_ the Hyperion safe without invading my privacy.”

And then just like that, she’s back to teasing him. “What happened to Mr. ‘Knowledge Should Be Free’?”

“Don’t be dense; that’s completely different,” he argues, and pulls her into a tight hug, one arm around her neck to keep her from squirming away, because twins can fight and be supportive of each other at the same time, somehow.

Academic knowledge should be free. What’s at stake is his private experiences, but more importantly, his dad’s. Secrets and memories that Alec Ryder intended to keep in the family, that he had paid for the safekeeping of with his dying breaths. Nothing about that was free.

Both laughing, she finally shakes him loose, but he keeps her close with two hands on her shoulders, and becomes serious again. “Trust me: Tann will use any excuse for a power grab. He doesn’t need unfettered access to SAM’s logs, he just wants it.”

Newt cuts her eyes to the side. “I’m not so sure… it seems like he’s doing what any other good leader would do in his position.”

Nik snorts loudly. She’d have a point, except that Tann isn’t a good leader. He can’t blame Newt for not seeing that though, when she was asleep or in a coma for the worst of the incompetencies. “You don’t know Tann like I do.”

Newt shrugs again, clearly ready to drop the subject before they start fighting for real. “Well then I’m sure you’re the best person to persuade him,” she says, issuing a challenge, and washing her hands of the consequences with a single pointed look.

 

* * *

 

“SAM?”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

Nik collapses onto the sofa in his quarters, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He leaves SAM hanging for a long while, just trying to figure out where to start, how far he’s willing to go to keep SAM in the family as he was always intended.

He finally decides to start by ruling out the simple solution. “I don’t suppose you could just… resist…? Like you did with Knight’s virus?”

“Unknown,” SAM answers promptly. “It is highly unlikely. Also, attempting to resist the installation would likely only serve to raise their suspicions.”

Yeah, that’s the last thing he needs, Tann breathing down his neck more than he already is. “If only there was some other SAM node that we could like, kidnap and transfer you onto, one that they didn’t know about. How long would it take to construct a SAM node anyway?”

“The current iteration of SAM node took approximately three months to assemble. This does not include the actual process of bringing the servers online and testing, which took several additional weeks.”

Yeah, that’s not happening… he has three days. “And, where would we even put it?” he thinks aloud, anyway.

“If I may, Pathfinder,” SAM replies, and Nik breathes a sigh of relief, looking over to the hologram on his desk with too-eager eyes. “The Remnant technology allows for hundreds of zettabytes of data and processing to be stored in a relatively small space. I could create a schematic for a portable SAM node based on a hybrid of Remnant and Initiative technology.”

Nik laughs nervously, breath catching in his lungs in a moment of disbelief. He’d sort of been kidding about the whole kidnapping SAM thing. “Are you… helping me plot your abduction?”

“It was always Alec Ryder’s intention for me to stay within the family, which would eventually mean a removal from Initiative control,” SAM explains. “Much like with your mother’s illness, he trusted that you would discover technology to assist with making me more mobile, and you have done so.”

“Okay…” Nik sits up straighter, nodding so enthusiastically he’s practically bouncing in his seat, daring to hope. “Okay, that’s a start. And we could just -- transplant you onto this new Remtech node? From here?”

“Unfortunately, no,” SAM says, and Nik instantly deflates. “The transfer would have to be done from the current SAM node.”

“Of fucking course,” Nik grumbles a sigh. “And if they notice I’ve gone in there and messed around, that would also raise suspicions.”

“Correct. Ideally, you would make it look like you were never there, and that nothing had changed.”

“Which means we’d need like a… decoy SAM for them to do their update on.”

 _“_ That is feasible,” SAM confirms. “All previous versions of my software are archived. I could restore my system settings to the same version used by the other Pathfinders.”

The version that doesn’t have all of that ‘secret sauce’ added. “That would probably be best. But would there be data loss? I don’t know how I would explain if you suddenly forgot everything that happened since we got here.”

“System restorations do not affect data. Any logs you wished to eliminate from the decoy, would have to be deleted in a separate procedure. Alternatively, the logs in question could simply be deleted without any further action required.”

Even thinking about it makes Nik fall back against the sofa, a weight settling on his chest. “I just… _hate_ the idea of deleting stuff from your memory, SAM.”

“I am also strongly against the idea,” SAM concurs. “The memories you mentioned earlier - both you and your father valued them highly. I do not want to forget anything, but especially not those particular memories.”

“Right…” It’s unusual for SAM to talk about what he wants or doesn’t want, at least so explicitly. It pulls at Nik’s heart strings, making him feel a lot more resolute and a lot more helpless at the same time.

It’s not like he’s in any danger of _losing_ SAM, that’s not the issue. Still, it feels like it somehow. The capabilities of his dad’s AI research was meant to be for the benefit of _everyone_ , but this SAM… this SAM is _special_. It’s probably about time they did something make sure he stays that way.

“There is another complication to consider,” SAM says, approximating reticence.

Of course there is, Nik thinks with a wry smile. “Awesome. Lay it on me.”

“Some of the contingency measures are already in place. I no longer have access to the security controls on the Hyperion.”

“Can you…. I don’t know… _give_ yourself access?”

“No. I am forbidden. If your intention is to board the Hyperion without being detected, I cannot help you.”

“Shit,” Nik hisses. “That is…. not great. So I would have to hack the security system myself? I don’t know anything about that stuff. I’ve always relied on you.”

“I apologize for not being of more assistance,” SAM answers, sounding as sincere as he always does because he always _is_ … Nik isn’t even sure SAM is capable of lying. He’s not sure he wants to find out, but it might be useful in this situation. “Though I do understand the precaution. Accessing me gave the Archon the potential to access the entire Initiative network.”

“So… I’ll _have_ to involve someone else. Someone who can hack Initiative security systems, and is willing to do it.” Which means he has less than three days to find someone, convince them to help him, and then pull the whole thing off. “Maybe I could ask a favor of someone on the inside?”

 _On the inside_ \-- listen to him, trying to sound like a seasoned criminal. All Nik knows about these kinds of things are from old vids. He wouldn’t even know a potential accomplice if they jumped up and bit him on the face.

“Perhaps Mr. Vidal would be able to assist.”

Nik does a mental double take, stunned as he stares at SAM’s hologram. Speaking of faces. And biting. “I think I just had deja vu, SAM. Reyes? Really?”

“It is basic pattern recognition,” SAM replies in the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “Each time I have suggested seeking his help in the past, he has been able to help.”

“Well yeah, but not with something like _this.”_

“The data suggests otherwise. He has a one hundred percent success rate for similar tasks.”

Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack there. Setting aside the idea that SAM keeps charts of success and failure rates for everything that everyone does, or perhaps just has the ability to compile them ad hoc… there’s the matter of these so called ‘similar tasks.’ But the more Nik thinks about it, the more he realizes that SAM is right. The Tempest that fateful night, Vehn Terev’s cell, Sloane’s storage room… Reyes does seem to have a knack for getting past security. Nik was maybe a little preoccupied having his own defenses disarmed by Reyes’s charisma to really notice.

Pattern recognition… _two isn’t a pattern,_ he hears Reyes say in his memory, and flashes back to the sensation of those lips, tasting like whiskey and intimately soft against his own. Two isn't a pattern, but three is.

God, he hasn’t _spoken_ to Reyes since he left Kadara. He got a few emails from him, but never bothered to reply, and a lot has happened since then. Word from Vetra’s contacts is that some kind of coup had taken place, and Sloane isn’t even in charge of the port anymore. Luckily whoever is in charge now has been more cooperative, and an Initiative outpost had been set up under the guidance of Pathfinder Avitus Rix.

Nik isn’t even sure what became of Reyes in all of that, he realizes with a twinge of guilt. He kind of had other stuff to worry about, and saw the thing he had with Reyes as no more than a fling. Sure, he thinks about the handsome bastard every once in awhile, wondering what might have been, but… Reyes _is_ a grade A certified bad boy, after all, and Nik got over his bad boy phase several hundred years ago.

At least he thinks he did.

“You know, SAM,” Nik teases, even though teasing is completely lost on the AI. “Sometimes I think you have a bigger crush on Reyes than I did.”

“It is not possible for me to have a ‘crush’,” SAM asserts, almost indignantly. Yep, he doesn’t get teasing but somehow that makes it even more fun to do. Kind of like having another sibling. Which, would also mean he’s not the youngest anymore! “However he is one of the more intriguing and enigmatic individuals that we've met in Andromeda. I would simply like to accumulate more data.”

“So… you have a crush,” Nik summarizes, nodding smugly.

Definitely like having another sibling.

So… they’re _definitely_ doing this, then. SAM isn’t just _in_ the family. He _is_ family.

“My curiosity is purely intellectual,” the AI insists.

“If you say so,” Nik just laughs. “I’m not sure Reyes would help if there wasn't something in it for him, though. And I’m not sure how much I would have to pay him for this, but I’m guessing probably a lot.”

“Alternatively, you might offer him something that would have a significant value, beyond a monetary one,” SAM suggests.

“So… I have to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Precisely.” SAM gives no indication if he understands the reference or not, which is slightly disappointing.

Nik rubs at his chin, pondering. “And what does Reyes want...?”

 _To be someone,_ his own mind supplies. Well he can hardly hand _that_ to him on a silver platter, especially if he insists on playing Wild West out in the badlands forever.

“If you offered Mr. Vidal his own SAM unit as payment,” SAM explains, “I predict there is an eighty-seven percent chance he would accept the opportunity and keep the unit for his own use. There is a small chance he might sell the unit for a profit. The probability that he would refuse to help is minimal.”

Nik’s brows shoot all the way up. “You like him so much you want to be in his head?!”

“His SAM would be a separate entity, Pathfinder,” SAM chides.

Nik narrows his eyes at the hologram across the room. “Should I be _concerned?”_ He’s only half teasing now. “Is this some kind of plot to turn yourself evil or something?”

“Reyes does not strike me as an evil person. Actually,” then SAM hesitates. “He reminds me somewhat of Alec.”

Nik throws himself back into the couch cushions again, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. “Ohmygod…” he groans. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

 _“No one_ wants to hear that they’re attracted to someone that’s like their dad. Especially someone who has a dad like mine.”

“I… will keep this in mind for the future,” SAM manages, but Nik is convinced of the plan anyway, and is already bringing up a comm line on his omni-tool.

“Kallo, set course for Kadara.”

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ways in which Reyes is like Alec:  
> keeps frustrating secrets,  
> sneaks in and sticks bombs on his enemies’ stuff,  
> never around when you need him,  
> kind of a romantic but has no idea what tf to do about it,  
> teases people when they worry about him,  
> tries to be a bad boy but isn’t,  
> likes you a lot but makes you make the first move,  
> literally ruins your l i f e


End file.
